


middle of crossroads

by wildflower (bangtrashsyd)



Category: NU'EST, Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2019-09-27 06:53:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17157302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bangtrashsyd/pseuds/wildflower
Summary: Jonghyun isfurious,because Hwang Minhyun has no right to make him feel this way again, after the past ten fucking years. As if he walked out of the dooryesterday,and not ten years ago. As if he threw away the twenty-two years they’d known each other for… for something Jonghyun couldn’t—wouldn’t—“For God’s sake, Minki,”he snaps, annoyed, knocking the cup back and dropping it on the floor, “just leave it, okay?”





	1. the beginning of the end

**Author's Note:**

> When I look into your eyes (my heart aches)  
> I hope we meet again, even if by chance yeah  
> Once again, I stand in the middle of a crossroad today  
> And I walk down this path that leads to you
> 
> [And I - NU'EST W]

**—one—**

**JONGHYUN**

**(Christmas, 2027)**

“Hyung, what are you doing out here?”

Jonghyun startles, dropping his cigarette and stabbing it pointedly with his foot, pasting a smile on his face as he turns. He would recognise that voice anywhere, and while Jihoon  _ would  _ kill him if he thought Jonghyun was protecting him from  _ anything— _

“Needed a bit of fresh air,” Jonghyun says easily, retracting the hand stuffed into his pocket. The kid (he’s a man now, really) looks a little worried, a little embarrassed. “It’s getting a bit too noisy for me in there. I’m old now, you know.”

The quip pays off because Jihoon smiles, eyes crinkling. Jonghyun notes the lift in his ears and sighs inwardly in relief. 

“Thirty-two is not  _ old,  _ hyung,” Jihoon chides. “You’re at the prime of your life!”

And it’s true. Jonghyun is thirty-two now, and he’s never peaked so high in his life before. He’s travelled to almost every country in the world, worked with the most amazing performers, helped to raise an entire generation of industry newcomers, and now owns a loft apartment in Gangnam. A  _ loft.  _ In  _ Gangnam.  _ He shrugs.

“Let’s get back inside, shall we?” he prods, and Jihoon stands a little to the side as Jonghyun steps back into his apartment. A wave of warm hair blasts him in the face, and he huffs at the pure  _ energy  _ in the room. Distantly, he hears someone call for Jihoon to leave the balcony door open for ventilation. He surveys the room with a rueful smile on his face. Guanlin is still at the karaoke machine, crooning out a series of love songs, arm wrapped around Seonho, who has tissue paper stuffed into his ears. He used to be like that too, once, when he was younger. Much younger, with—He cuts himself off from that train of thought.

He hasn’t thought about  _ him  _ in years. He hasn’t thought about what used to be, nearly a decade ago. It’s strange that he’s thinking of him right now, after ten years, in what is supposed to be a company Christmas party for a dozen of idols who can’t afford to go home for the holidays. 

“Hey,” Minki sidles up to him, nudging his hip with his own. “I haven’t seen that look on your face for a while now.”

“What,” Jonghyun is distracted by the offer of beer, “are you talking about?”

“You know,” Minki says casually, “the look you get when you’re thinking of Mi—”

“Don’t,” Jonghyun murmurs around a mouthful of beer, swallowing the bitter liquid down. 

“It’s been ten years, Jonghyun-ah.”

“I know,” Jonghyun says resolutely, and  _ damn Minki  _ if he thinks he doesn’t know. He knows  _ exactly  _ why he’s thinking of Hwang  _ bloody  _ Minhyun today of all days, in the middle of the night. 

“Jonghyun-ah—”

There’s a swirl of thoughts in his head, about  _ his  _ hands and  _ his  _ hair and the way  _ he  _ smiles and the pain in his heart when he walked out of the door. And Jonghyun is  _ furious,  _ because Hwang Minhyun has  _ no right  _ to make him feel this way  _ again,  _ after the past ten  _ fucking  _ years. As if he walked out of the door  _ yesterday,  _ and not  _ ten years ago.  _ As if he threw away the twenty-two years they’d known each other for… for  _ something _ Jonghyun couldn’t _ —wouldn’t— _

_ “For God’s sake, _ Minki,” he snaps, annoyed, knocking the cup back and dropping it on the floor, “just leave it, okay?”

Minki shuts his mouth and picks up the cup. Jonghyun briefly registers the utter silence in the room and flushes dully, spinning on his heel and grabbing his coat from its special hook, opening the door. 

“Sorry,” he mutters, not looking anyone in the eye. Carefully, he closes the door and stuffs his feet in his boots, slamming the button for the lift.

“Hyung,” someone says. And all Jonghyun can think of is: Minhyun never calls him hyung.  _ “Hyung,  _ come on—”

The lift doors open, and Jonghyun grins, smile slipping off his face when he sees the look on Hyunbin’s face. And Hyunbin presses his lips together when he sees the angry tears on Jonghyun’s face, stepping forward and passing him a handkerchief. Jonghyun smiles again, and steps into the lift. 

**MINHYUN**

**(Christmas, 2016)**

“You should call me  _ hyung,  _ you know,” Jonghyun grumbles, turning in his grip to look at his face. “I’m two months older than you.”

“Wow,” Minhyun deadpans, eyes flicking down to meet his before glancing back at the movie. “Two months. How revolutionary.”

Jonghyun frowns and buts him in the head gently. Blue grumbles from her spot on Jonghyun’s stomach, shifting around. “Sorry, sweetheart,” Jonghyun whispers to the tiny kitten, and Minhyun can’t help the smile that quirks at the side of his mouth. 

“Hush,” he chides, “Kiki is going through her crisis now.” Jonghyun mutters under his breath in annoyance, fingers brushing through Blue’s fur. Minhyun glances away from the movie to look down at the both of them, his little family. 

It’s then, he realises, in the light of the cheap strings of fairy lights they loop around their furniture instead of a Christmas tree they can’t afford, in the middle of cheap throws they knit themselves, with a kitten they found in the dumpster behind their tiny, one-room apartment with the television they salvaged from the previous owners, that he would never leave the two of them. He would hold on to the person he loved the most in the entire world, to the tiny kitten that wormed her way into their hearts, to this stupid, cramped apartment with a crackling television, to the knitted throws with little nubs in it from all the times they missed a stitch. He would. 

**JONGHYUN**

**(Boxing Day, 2027)**

He meets the band he’s travelling with at the airport, pulling the sleeves of his sweatshirt to his elbows. 

“Hi,” Seongwoo says, eyebrows raised. Jonghyun responds softly, eyes darting away when Seongwoo asks if he’s cooled off enough. “Okay then.”

Daniel loops an arm around his shoulders, telling Seongwoo to knock it off. They check in together, catching Jaehwan before he runs off too far and pulling Woojin away from the display of Royce chocolates. Jonghyun makes a mental note to buy him those from the duty-free section when they land in Japan. 

The flight is dull and boring, and the kids knock out as soon as the plane lifts off, predictably. Eyeing the dark circles beneath their eyes, Jonghyun sighs and makes another mental note to get them some health supplements when they land. He has another hour or so of free time, so he opens up his Instagram and checks the Explore page, ignoring the flutter of activity on his own account. He thumbs mindlessly on it, then stops when he sees a beautiful picture of a cafe, diffused with natural lighting. The caption is Japanese, but Jonghyun manages to decipher enough of it to interpret that the cafe has a bookstore concept, with a little shop next door. Clicking on the profile, he screenshots the address, noting with pleasure that the store is open twenty-four hours and is located near their hotel. The profile shows him  _ more  _ pictures of their collection of books, of cute kitten latte art, and of unique, wooden tables scattered across the cafe with a little bar for the later hours of the night. He makes up his mind to go and closes the app, leaning back and closing his eyes. 

 

Their arrangement is easy, Jonghyun thinks, pacing the kids through their dance practices and making sure they have enough water and food to stay sharp. He's been working as a dance instructor, sometimes manager, for this band ever since their debut. He follows them around when he doesn't have any other artists to attend to, because they're his  _ kids.  _

He's arranged for a longer stay in Japan after the awards ceremony, so he can relax and unwind a little before the new year. The beginnings of every year are often  _ hectic,  _ overwhelmingly so, with the staff members of multiple agencies contacting him about meetings and booking for their artists’ comebacks and stages and whatnot.

And Jonghyun is grateful for the work. He really is. He knows how hard it is to stay employed in this industry, and he has no desire to return to the days of his early twenties when he was broke and studying his ass off. And his brain is veering dangerously close to the… topic he's been trying to avoid, so he calls all the kids back and tells them to practice more before he heads out. 

 

The cafe is located a few minutes walk away from the dance studio. Jonghyun unbuttons his coat and walks against the wind, the cold biting at his cheeks. It's comforting, Japanese winters. Not as chilling as Korean ones, but pleasantly cold enough to remind him that it  _ is  _ Winter. There's a soft yellow light going out of the windows as he approaches, and he has to duck a little to slip into the cafe. Inside, he appreciates the decor before scrutinizing the menu, finally deciding on a flat white and choosing a spot near the window. He leans back into the seat and stares out, watching the people walk by. Occasionally, an interested passer-by peers through his window and offers him a quick smile. 

The barista brings him his coffee, steaming, and he thanks him quickly before taking a picture and uploading it on Instagram. Placing the phone down and ignoring the entry of multiple notifications, he takes a sip and relishes in it. Somehow, it's exactly what be needs, the warmth from the coffee seeping into his bones and relaxing him after his long day. 

Jonghyun continues to watch, frowning when he sees someone familiar passing by. The person he  _ thinks _ he knows looks into the window and spots him at that moment, and he nearly drops his cup of coffee. Opening his mouth, he nearly calls out for him before realising that he won't be able to hear him through the glass anyway. 

Dongho understands anyway, and he beams, slipping into the cafe and knocking his forehead against the low ceiling. 

“Ouch,” he complains, settling, content, into the seat opposite him. “Hey, Kim Jonghyun. It's been a long time.”

“Hey, Dongho,” he responds, setting down his coffee and observing his old friend. “It has.”

He met Dongho through Minhyun, really. Two struggling School of The Arts students meet through one Medical Science student, and they connect through their hardships with unprofessional lecturers and failed critique slot bookings. It's basically the narrative of any college based K-drama these days. 

Dongho looks good, tougher, harder, a little rougher around the edges. He's a composer now, flying all over the world. They haven't met in five months since their last meeting, and Jonghyun is surprised to find him here, of all countries. Dongho fills him in on the news: he's been nominated for Best Producer at the Awards Ceremony tomorrow. Jonghyun grins and congratulates him, shaking his head as he thinks back on where they were in life just a decade ago. 

They chat for a bit, dithering on industry gossip and small talk. It doesn't take Dongho that long to press about Minhyun. 

“Are you happy, Jonghyun-ah?” 

“I am content,” he replies firmly, “and that is enough for me.”

He swallows the last mouthful of coffee, and strangely, the taste that lingers is startlingly bitter. 


	2. aren't you tired trying to fill that void?

**—two—**

**MINHYUN**

(Christmas, 2027)

“You know,” Minki says casually into the phone as Minhyun strides, yet again, from one end of the hospital to the other, “coming back to Seoul would mean meeting Jonghyun again.”

The name takes him off guard and his steps slow, almost coming to a halt. Behind him, a nurse skips aside to continue brisk walking to her destination, huffing under her breath with annoyance. Minhyun mutters a quick apology to a disappearing back view and blinks, turning to look out of a glass window. The night view outside is beautiful, but it’s the same as it always is. Pitch black darkness with a view of the surrounding buildings and its lights and decorations. From here, he can see the huge, lighted tree, as part of tradition every year. It’s Christmas, and he hasn’t noticed.

Okay, so maybe it’s a little bit of an exaggeration to say he hasn’t noticed. It’s more like penning down a certain deadline in your planner and suddenly remembering on the day itself, the numbers looming over you. Minhyun rubs at his temples with his spare hand.

“—Minhyun!” the voice on the other end is tiny. “Did he drop his phone?”

“I’m here,” he says, dimly aware that he’s standing in the middle of the hospital like a bloody idiot. “I’m here.”

“Oh,” Minki replies, and there’s a short pause filled with the words Minhyun cannot say. “Well. Merry Christmas, Minhyun-ah.”

“Yeah,” Minhyun blinks, moving to the side, _finally,_ so he can rest his aching back against something stable. “Merry Christmas, Minki-ah.”

 

He knocks off work at around twelve in the night, grabbing his coat and car keys from his office and speeding downstairs to get to his car before the midnight parking charges are implemented. Quite frankly, he’s exhausted and barely awake on six cups of coffee. His hands are white on the steering wheel, but he somehow manages to drive back to his apartment in one piece. Once home, he collapses onto his bed and closes his eyes, not even bothering to scrub himself down after work. He normally does, but days like this… days like this are different. Days like this, he’s so tired he can barely function, the ache settling deep into his bones.

 _Jonghyun-ah,_ he thinks, _how are you?_

**JONGHYUN**

(Christmas, 2015)

Jonghyun tries to stifle his laughs as he watches Minhyun stare at the gingerbread house, eyes slitted in concentration and eyebrows drawn together. The object of focus is from their local convenience store, the cheap kind, but Minhyun cradles the house like it’s a thing of beauty, placing little candies onto the roof and piping uneven trials of white to mimic snow.

“I can hear you laughing at me, you know,” Minhyun says, and Jonghyun giggles.

“You are too cute,” he grins into his hand, wrestling his way into the tiny kitchen and wrapping his arms around his waist.

“Stop, you’re distracting me,” Minhyun whines, and Jonghyun presses his smile into his back. They haven’t hung out like this in a while, just the two of them. Their second years have been rough, too rough. They barely get enough sleep, and when they do, it’s just enough to sleep together for an hour before the other has to leave to complete an assignment or attend classes.

“Maybe you should be distracted,” Jonghyun reaches to swipe a bit of the white frosting, ignoring Minhyun’s protests. It’s too sweet, the artificial candy cane taste causing him to scrunch up his face. “Why do you bother, anyway? It’s going to taste the same when we eat it.”

“Oh my God, Jonghyun,” Minhyun huffs, “I wanted us to have a proper Christmas—”

“I know,” Jonghyun spins him around and sighs contentedly when Minhyun _finally_ wraps his arms around him. “I swear to God, you make me love you more every single day.”

**MINHYUN**

(26th December, 2027)

It’s his off day today, and it doesn’t come often.

Minhyun spends his day writing letters and opening presents from his family and friends overseas, chuckling when he sees that Kang Dongho has given him a reindeer onesie. For the rest of daylight, he puts on the onesie (which is really comfortable), and cooks simply. In the meantime, he takes half a billion selfies of himself and sends it to Dongho, who responds with the rolling eyes emoji. It’s nice to know that he’s still thinking of him when they’re not even in the same country.

He unwraps more presents from his family and sets them under the little Christmas tree he has in his coffee table, swearing to himself that he'll go through them later.

He hasn't celebrated Christmas in a while, but he'll cave today and pop by his favourite cafe. He needs some books anyway.

 

“Hey, Kenta,” he calls, ducking under the low shopfront and making sure not to hit his head (like he's done _so many_ times). “Got any recommendations for my weekend?”

“Oh, Doctor!” the man chirps from behind the counter, where he's wiping down half a dozen coffee mugs. “Take a seat, I'll get some copies for you. Your usual?”

“Flat white, you know it,” he winks, and Kenta rolls his eyes at him fondly, switching on the relevant equipment and disappearing into the bookstore. Somehow, Japanese winters are less chilling than those in Korea. He perches on his bar seat and looks out at the rest of the cafe.

There's a young couple sitting in a booth, both staring into their books but with their pinkies intertwined. He smiles at the sight. They're cute. 

There are also a handful of lone patreons, like him, which are common in this cafe. His eyes are drawn to the side profile of someone wearing a white mask and he stops scanning the room to observe the man's choice of reading.

It's anime, and he snorts a little under his breath. At that very moment, the man leans forward to reach for his iced Americano and Minhyun freezes at the sight.

A single silver ring hung on a silver chain slips out of his collar, sparkling in the sunlight that seeps into the cafe from the window on the man's right. And (he's really serious) Minhyun swears time slows like some fucking Korean drama, the moment the protagonist meets his antagonist or some shit. Some bullshit about first love. But it's real. It's real and _he's_ real and he's sitting right in front of him _and for God's sake, Minhyun, what are you going to do?_

Minhyun spins back into his seat and leans his head on his forearms, catching his breath. After all this time, Jonghyun has always managed to steal his breath away.

“Here are your books,” Kenta allows the books to make a loud thud on the counter. Minhyun's back stiffens at the sure gaze of the cafe's occupants and glances up at his host with irritation.

“Are you a bookshop owner or not?” he demands, fully aware of how much he's nagging. “Treat your books with care!”

“I don’t need to, when you’re going to buy them anyway,” Kenta sasses back, and Minhyun frowns at him, taking his coffee with dignity and casting a cursory glance over the books. He knows he will take them anyway, and so does Kenta. Unfortunately.

A glance into the large mirror directly opposite him shows Jonghyun leaving, slipping out into the cold again. Minhyun feels slightly disappointed, then nearly slaps himself in public thinking he has any right to go after him.

“What’s with that look on your face, Doctor?” Kenta asks, using his forearms to brace himself against the opposite side of the counter. Minhyun glances up at him and remembers distantly that he never told the barista his name. He takes a good look at his hands and realises, that for the first time in ten years, they are not shaking.

“Nothing,” he mutters, then looks up again, piercing his friend with the most intense look he can imagine. “The next time the Korean man comes in, you can put his bill on my card.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you @kangsyejin (twitter) for beta-ing for me! as always. give me some love pLS thank you :')


	3. i'm off the deep end

**—three—**

**JONGHYUN**

(December 27th, 2027)

The cafe has a new occupant, he notices. Kenta addresses him as the Doctor, and Jonghyun’s never been the nosy kind, except the whole situation seems a little fishy to him.

Like how the Doctor always takes the same counter seat in front of the mirror, but wears a mask to hide most of his features. For some reason, he fathoms, the Doctor chooses that seat to observe someone. _And,_ Jonghyun concludes, _that person is me._

The Doctor isn’t actually the most subtle person in the world. The moment he placed his order and tried to pay for it, Kenta (the nice, and only, barista) immediately waved his hands at him and jammered enthusiastically about how the Doctor had settled his bills at the cafe in advance. Things got even more suspicious when the barista had leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially: “Order more food. Waste his money. He has too much to use for himself, anyway.”

Jonghyun had blinked, tried to ask what was going on, and had been promptly rebuffed and redirected into a seat that he realises _only now_ that has been specially reserved for him.

Okay, then.

He waits there until his iced Americano comes, then thanks Kenta and makes his way quickly out of the cafe. He’s got to meet a band today before they fly back for one of the year-end show specials, and he really needs the coffee to make it through the day.

**MINHYUN**

(December 27th, 2027)

“Your Korean friend came in today,” Kenta’s message reads, and Minhyun growls under his breath, shoving the phone back into the depths of his white coat. The phone buzzes traitorously in his pocket again, and, despite himself, he pulls out the offending object to squint at the it: “He ordered an Iced Americano.”

Minhyun has no desire to hear Jonghyun’s coffee orders every day. If he remembers right (and of course, he does) Jonghyun will only drink iced Americanos when he’s stressed or tired. And gathering from recent reports over the border about the hectic festivities of the year end show specials, he knows that Jonghyun will be knee deep in preparations and stage designs and whatever the industry does nowadays. Dongho has texted him in the middle of attending one of those soirees to complain about his boredom more times that he can count.

 _He must be tired,_ Minhyun’s brain chirps.

 _Shut up,_ his heart responds, thudding uncertainly in his chest.

“Doctor Hwang?” the intern asks, stepping forward slightly. He realises that he’s been spacing out for a while and blinks rapidly, apologising for his mistake. The Director frowns at him and he steps back in line quickly, hoping to disappear into the white tiles.

“As I was saying,” the Director continues, “the new hospital in Korea is ready, and I will be sending a couple of you over to supervise. Essentially, the team gathered will be automatically promoted to one rank or more higher.”

Minhyun has a very, very bad feeling.

“Of course,” the man gives him one good, searching glance, “our resident Korean, Doctor Hwang, will be leading this excursion. Doctor Hwang, you will be promoted to the rank of Medical Director, along with a few others that will be covered in the following meeting.”

 _God damnit,_ Minhyun thinks in absolute annoyance, _things are really not turning out well today._

 

It is only expected, one would think, for his day to go even more south. Instead, Hwang Minhyun defies the very stereotype and soldiers on with his day as calmly as he can, meeting with his various staff to discuss his replacement as well as the procedures to take for the next term.

When he gets off work, it’s nearly ten at night. He came in at two in the morning.

“Jesus,” he moans, slamming his head against the steering wheel, “I need a life.”

Despite the overwhelming need to _sleep_ weighing in his bones, Minhyun puts on his mask again and pops by the cafe, checking if Jonghyun is in. Sure enough, the other is passed out on his armchair, snoring gently. Kenta raises his eyebrows at him when he comes in, and he spins around to go back to his car, pulling out one of the extra throws he keeps in the backseat to wrap around his ex.

“What are you doing, Doctor?” the barista asks, and Minhyun sighs, tucking a tissue under Jonghyun’s jaw and wrapping the blanket snugly around him.

“I have no idea,” he answers solemnly, buying a sandwich from Kenta and leaving.

When he’s home, he stares uncomprehendingly at the sandwich, wondering why he bought it.

 _You need to eat breakfast tomorrow,_ his brain says.

 _You just needed an excuse,_ his heart counters smugly.

Minhyun presses the heel of his palm to his forehead and groans out loud, tossing the sandwich into the fridge and shutting it, leaning his face against the cool surface.

“I need sleep,” he tells himself, and manages to drag himself into bed before passing out.

**JONGHYUN**

(December 27th, 2027)

Jonghyun manages to drag himself through three hours of coaching before the boys go back to Korea. Ignoring their attempts at persuading him to return with them, he kicks them all out of the rented studio with a smile and a promise to watch the special stages live.

“Do well, kids!” he shouts after them, shifting the chairs back into their original places. Guanlin closes the door behind them carefully, bless the boy, careful not to let it bang, and he finally drops the smile from his face. He allows himself to close his eyes and just _rest_ for a moment.

It’s been long since he’s danced for himself. He hasn’t done that in ten years, but for some reason, he wants to do that today. And now.

With slightly trembling hands, Jonghyun places his phone on the little crane tripod he hauls around to dance practices and chooses a song on the local Spotify Top Hits playlists and… he lets go.

 

It’s not until later, when he finally realises what song he’s playing, that he realises that he’s crying.

 

_No other name falling off my lips_

_Don't wanna give my heart away_

_To another stranger_

 

For some reason, he’s thinking of how he woke up in the cafe at four in the morning with a tissue under his chin and wrapped in a blue velvet throw. For some reason, he brought it home. And for some reason, the blanket smells like… like… Minhyun.

 


	4. when the sun goes down

**—four—**

**MINHYUN**

(15th December, 2013)

“They—” Jonghyun clutches at his shirt, falling apart in his arms. “They fucked up his surgery. He’s not coming back, Minhyun-ah.” Minhyun wipes his tears discreetly behind Jonghyun’s back and holds on, conveying all the words he cannot say through their embrace.

“My  _ dad,”  _ Jonghyun wails, and Minhyun huffs out a small breath, wrapping his arms even tighter around Jonghyun, trying to hold him together as another burst of tears wrack his entire body.  _ “My dad!” _

“I know,” he soothes as best as he can, mind filled with a smiling man who always gave him sweet potatoes to eat whenever he came over. His eyes fill with tears again, and he closes his eyes. “I  _ know.” _

 

**MINHYUN**

(December 31th, 2027)

He hasn’t seen Jonghyun in two days. Kenta hasn’t either. 

So, naturally, Jonghyun pops out of nowhere on the last day of the year, in a truly Jonghyun-like way. Minhyun glances him over as he enters, and is entirely shocked when Jonghyun approaches the counter, orders, and takes a seat next to him. He shifts uncomfortably, ready to bolt, but Jonghyun places one hand on the counter, taps his fingernails against the wooden surface, and he shifts again. 

“You’ve been looking at me for really long,” Jonghyun says cooly, and Minhyun shakes his head, making vague apologizing noises. Kenta sets down an iced Americano in front of Jonghyun and escapes back to the ordering station, ignoring Minhyun’s unspoken pleas for help. Damn that boy, he should have fired him a long time ago. He drains the rest of his lavender tea, sets the teacup back into its saucer, and stands up. 

Jonghyun turns to look at him again, and he recognises that  _ look  _ in his eyes. 

“I swear to God, Hwang Minhyun,” Jonghyun says softly, “if you walk out on me one more time, I will _ kill  _ you.”

Minhyun eases back into the seat. Kenta passes by their little space, observes Minhyun’s emptied cup, and takes it into the back.  The door to the backroom shuts with a definitive  _ click. _

“It’s been a long time,” Jonghyun continues calmly. Minhyun fidgets slightly.

“Yes,” he agrees. “It has. How have you been?”   
“Well,” his ex replies shortly, taking a long drag from his coffee. “You’re a doctor?”

“Yes,” he says again, wondering why Jonghyun, after all these years, is still able to render him speechless. “St. Luke’s.”

“Hm,” Jonghyun comments idly, using a finger to trace wet patterns into the wood. “This would be the hospital that caused my father to die?” Minhyun makes a surprised sound and wants to swallow it back into his chest. Jonghyun huffs once under his breath and casts a tired, exasperated look at him. “For God’s sake, Minhyun-ah—” they both flinch at the casual use of his name— “take off your mask. It’s hard to make conversation.”

Minhyun keeps his eyes on his, unwinding the strings from behind his ears and setting the cloth down on the counter. Jonghyun’s face contorts slightly, and the both of them stare at each other in silence, both waiting. He opens his mouth first.

“What about you?” he asks, trying,  _ desperately,  _ to make some attempt at conversation. Jonghyun just stares at him for a moment, as if remembering how he looks like. He blinks, opens his mouth again—

“I’m a stage producer,” Jonghyun says, leaning back in his chair, like he’s trying to get more comfortable. “I specialise—I specialised in dance, but my knee… uh… I shattered one of the bones so I don’t—”

“You don’t dance anymore?” he blinks. The words make sense in their individual components, but not together. Jonghyun not dancing is a phenomenon that never occurred to him. He takes another look at him—perched on the edge of the stool like he’s about to take off and perform. But there’s a shift in the way he sits, he notices, for the first time. Jonghyun favours his left leg now, and every few moments his right hand brushes against his right knee.  “But… you…”

“Yeah,” Jonghyun huffs out a shaky laugh, looking to the side a bit. “I don’t dance professionally anymore. But what about you? You don’t sing anymore?’

Minhyun’s eyes harden, even if he doesn’t mean to. He sees Jonghyun clamp down, sees the way his eyes harden too—

“Not professionally,” he whispers. Jonghyun’s eyes soften, and their hands inch together towards each other’s, before he raises it to scratch his neck.

“C’est la vie,” Jonghyun says sadly, looking at him. And for an instant, Minhyun realises how far apart they are, torn apart by miscommunication and the pain of growing up. He looks down at his hands again, seeing how hard they tremble. Jonghyun’s eyes follow his gaze, and the both of them look at his  _ stupid, stupid _ hands and how hard they shake and—

“You wanted to be a surgeon,” Jonghyun murmurs, eyes flicking up the scrutinise the expression that flickers across his face.

“Yeah,” he blinks rapidly, choking on his next words, “c’est la vie.”

 

**JONGHYUN**

(December 31st, 2027)

They sit in silence for a while, and he pretends to notice when Minhyun buys more tea. It’s an entire pot this time, not another tiny teacup. 

“Chamomile?” Kenta suggests quietly, and Minhyun shakes his head,  _ still  _ glancing at him from the edge of his eye like they’re children. 

“Ginger and orange peel,” he pipes up, watching the strain of Minhyun’s shoulder. The incredulous look he shoots at him makes him smile slightly, remembering something from very long ago. Minhyun used to chug pots of that during final season, he recalls. 

“We don’t serve that here,” Kenta stammers apologetically, eyes darting towards Minhyun’s in a panic, and Jonghyun deflates a bit, leaning back in his chair again. His hand comes up to finger the ring at his throat, and he sees Minhyun’s eyes follow the movement. And his old friend, ex,  _ whatever,  _ looks up and into his eyes, and he can see that they’re both thinking about the same thing. 

“Just ginger, then,” Minhyun decides, and the barista offers them a hopeful smile before disappearing into the back again. The both of them stare at each other again.  _ This is all Minki’s fault,  _ Jonghyun thinks distantly,  _ there’s no way I would talk to  _ him  _ again— _

“I own this cafe,” Minhyun gestures to the expanse of the cafe, nearly cleared out now. It’s nearing eleven, and the streets outside are dark. 

“You do?” Jonghyun asks in interest, taking another good look around. “It’s a good cafe. Good concept. Coffee is great. Kenta is nice.” When he looks up, Minhyun is smiling  _ that way,  _ the really fond, adoring look he had grown to be used to and his heart bloody  _ stutters.  _ “Yes. Sorry. I’m rambling.”

“It’s okay,” Minhyun has a different smile on his face now. It’s… a little sadder. “I know.”

Conversation stills again, and Jonghyun wonders why it’s so hard to talk  _ now.  _ They used to talk non-stop back in the old days, jumping from topic to topic and laughing and crying and ranting and—He misses that. He misses the ease of their relationship. But he’s not stupid enough to suggest becoming friends again. He knows they’d never be  _ friends,  _ because, as Choi Minki puts it: “The two of you are drawn together like… like imploding stars. You know. You can say you’re friends, Jonghyun-ah. But it always goes more. Always have. Always will.” 

“I missed you,” Jonghyun quirks a corner of his lip. Minhyun nods thoughtfully. “I’ve missed you, Minhyun-ie.”

Kenta arrives at that very moment, setting the teapot down. Jonghyun notices how his eyes light up when he says Minhyun’s name. Minhyun rolls his eyes at the curious barista. 

“Yes, that’s my name,” he tells him, and Kenta echoes it. 

“No,” Jonghyun says, a little too sharply, “it’s just Minhyun.” Kenta’s eyes grow large, looking at the two of them, nods in panic, hisses a word of encouragement to Minhyun, and disappears again. He smiles a bit at his antics. He’s adorable. 

“I’ve missed you too,” Minhyun murmurs, pouring out the tea. He hands a teacup to him, warning him about the heat, and he takes a sip. The ginger is spicy and warming, running down his throat and heating his stomach up.  _ It’s missing something,  _ Jonghyun watches Minhyun blow on the rim of his cup,  _ the orange peel. It makes all the difference. _

“The orange makes all the difference, huh?” Minhyun muses, eyes electric when he places the teacup down on the counter. “It’s like the ginger is missing something.” Jonghyun makes a vague agreeing noise and sets his cup down too. “Have you seen Minki recently?”

“Yes,” Jonghyun comments, “at the company Christmas party.”

“He only texts me, nowadays,” he can’t help but notice how hard Minhyun’s fingers  _ shake. _ “He used to come round to visit sometimes, but now he only comes once a year.”

“He has a boyfriend now,” Jonghyun interjects, then winces at how accusing he sounds. “They… They’re good for each other.”   
“He does?” Minhyun’s startled, eyes slightly blown. His fingers spasm again, clutching at something Jonghyun cannot see. He looks up, and Minhyun’s staring at his hands too. “Guess I’ve been out of the loop for a while.”

“Jaehwan, Daniel and Seongwoo debuted in a boyband, you know,” Jonghyun wants to stop these words, stop the wave of accusations that seem to seep from his being, stop the bitterness he somehow imprinted on all of their friends. “It’s called Wanna One. They’re really popular. Hyunbin’s modelling, but he’s in the army now. He’s coming out in like, a month. Dongho’s a producer too, and Daehwi started a fashion line. Seonho—”

Minhyun caves in on himself a bit and puts a hand to his eyes. 

_ “Jesus,” _ he says into his lap, voice rough and trembling  _ ever so  _ slightly. And Jonghyun, foolish Jonghyun, still remembers the signs like he’s in  _ their  _ apartment ten years ago, watching Minhyun cry when he gets home from a bad day. “Jesus, Jonghyun-ah. I’ve been gone really long.” 

Jonghyun thumbs at the tissues under the teapot, producing one for Minhyun to dab at his face. He stays silent: there’s nothing for  _ him _ to say. Minhyun is right—he  _ has  _ been away too long. Their circle of friends have expanded, widened, changed beyond what was ten years ago. And Minhyun, who’s only stayed in contact with  _ Minki _ for  _ all these years, _ is sure to lag behind. 

“Seonho works as a banker now,” he finishes abruptly. “He still asks me if we’re talking. And I say yes, every time.” Because the two of them hadn’t had the heart to tell the younger that they weren’t— _ what?  _ Friends? Lovers?— _ anything _ anymore. They weren’t together. Minhyun had gone on with his life after graduation, and he had gone on with his. They worked in different countries. They talked. That had been the story—one that was both carefully  _ and  _ messily put together by Jonghyun after Minhyun hightailed out of the country like there were a thousand demons chasing him. 

Minhyun doesn’t take the next tissue he offers. Instead, he lets out a wet laugh. 

For some reason, hearing that causes tears to well up in Jonghyun’s eyes. He fights with himself for a moment, then he stretches out an arm to pull Minhyun’s hand away from his eyes, twisting the limb so he can intertwine their hands. Their posture is ridiculous, with him stretching across the counter to hold his ex’s hands, while mentioned ex looks decidedly unglamourous with his body turned away, nose red and running and—Minhyun looks at their hands like they’re dreaming. Jonghyun hates the hope in his eyes and hates how soft he is. 

“Come home,” he says, short and intense.  _ “Come home.  _ With me.”

Minhyun looks so lonely, so lost, and it just about breaks his heart—Jonghyun just can’t stop thinking about ginger and orange peel tea and about  _ Blue _ all alone by himself at home, about how Minhyun’s hands shake and how he doesn’t  _ sing _ anymore? About the  _ look  _ in his eyes with how lonely he is and how he owns a cafe whose barista-co-owner doesn’t  _ know his name. _ About how out of the loop he’s been with everyone, about how everyone  _ keeps asking _ if Minhyun is coming back, and about how he has to tell them everytime: “Maybe,” until they forget to ask and he forgets his answers. 

Minhyun looks up at him. His hands are cold.

“I was going to tell you,” he stammers, and Jonghyun’s heart plummets. “I’m transferring back. To Korea. And… and I didn’t like it, ‘cos of the memories of how I fucked up but…”

“But?” Jonghyun demands, hand tightening its hold on Minhyun’s like it’s a lifetime. Because if Minhyun turns right now and walks out of the door, Jonghyun  _ swears _ he will let him go. 

“But I think I want to say yes,” Minhyun breathes, reaching across to grasp his other hand. “I’d like to say yes.”

“Oh,” Jonghyun whispers/says/thinks—he doesn’t even  _ know,  _ and Minhyun smiles that smile of his that Jonghyun has always loved. The one that lights up his eyes, that tilts the tip of his ears up ever so slightly, the way his lips stretch across his face in pure happiness. “Oh, thank God.”

“Thank God,” Minhyun echoes. They look  _ so  _ stupid, both of them nearly out of their seats and stretched across the infernal space between two counter stools, feet pointing towards each other and yet also out of the door, eyes tearing and voices trembling.  

Jonghyun’s phone lights up with a quiet  _ ding!  _ And he looks at is just in time to see the year pass.

“It’s 2028,” he notes absently.

“It is,” Minhyun’s grin is trembling but it’s there. It’s  _ there. _ “Happy New Year, Jonghyun-ah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> posting this a day earlier cos i don't see any other free time in my next 24 hours so. this chapter was probably the easiest to write so far but STILL would really appreciate it if you could comment something below!! thank you for reading i love u


	5. away to another stranger

**—five—**

**MINHYUN**

(January 4th, 2028)

“Hwang Minhyun!” someone calls, and his head darts up. It’s Minki, bouncing on his feet with a large, neon sign that says “WELCOME HOME, MINHYUN-AH”. Minhyun flushes three different shades of red and hurries over, pushing his cart along so he can give Minki a hug and to simultaneously wrestle the board away from him. 

“Thank you for coming,” he says quietly into Minki’s shoulder. He can feel the enthusiasm bleed from Minki, and his friend clutches at his shoulder.

“Anytime, Minhyun-ah,” he replies just as quietly, resting a hand on his waist comfortingly. They pull apart way too soon, although the wink Minki sends him promises more cuddles later. His old friend brings forward a man that has been standing off to the side, introducing him as Kwak Aron, his boyfriend. Minhyun smiles and introduces himself, and Aron is nice, brilliant, and entirely the right fit for Minki. The man pats his cheek and tells his boyfriend to get the car, and somehow they manage to wrestle Minhyun’s three suitcases to the pick up point and into the car boot. Minki tosses the smallest suitcase into the backseat, instructing Minhyun to sit at the back while he takes the front seat (of course he would). It’s a nice car, Minhyun observes, running his fingers across the leather seats. White, of course, looking like new. Inside has the impossible-to-miss markings of A Minki Car™, with candies in the side pockets and back pockets, a furry blanket hung on the back of the driver’s seat, and coffee mug holders. His friend tosses him a pack of Skittles while he opens yet another packet of M&Ms, and he smiles at the thought of another memory of him and Jonghyun in the back seat of another car, with Dongho and Minki in the front. The four of them throwing sweets at each other. 

“So,” Aron switches into gear and pulls out of the pick up point, adjusting the mirror so their eyes meet. “How was Japan?”

Minhyun’s throat dries up a little, and he pauses a little too long. Minki turns around to look at him and— “Good,” he yelps. “It was a change.”

“Yeah?” Aron nods encouragingly. “I always wanted to go myself. Where would you recommend?”   
“Kyoto, definitely,” he responds, looking out of the window. He hasn’t been back for a very long time. “It’s pretty all year round. Or maybe Hokkaido. But Minki’s going to hate the cold.”

“Why would he?” Aron asks in surprise, looking away from the road to glance at his boyfriend. “We went to Finland in the winter last year. He’ll be fine.”

“Oh,” Minhyun says. He can’t help but feel like an outsider, looking in. “I didn’t know that.”

“That’s because I didn’t tell you,” Minki rolls his eyes. “You were busy.”

“I was,” he agrees absently. Aron looks at him again through the mirror, but keeps his mouth shut. Minki turns around to look at him again, limbs flailing, and he hesitates.

“It’s not going to be easy, you know,” his friend tells him quietly, solemnly. “You disappeared out of everyone’s lives ten years ago. They took it hard.”

“I know,” Minhyun smiles a bit, sadly. “I wasn’t expecting forgiveness. From you, too.”

“Don’t expect anything,” Minki says candidly, turning around in his seat again and attacking his chocolates with gusto. “Things have changed.”

“Yeah,” Minhyun murmurs under his breath, looking out of the window again. He can barely recognise his motherland. “They have.”

 

Aron and Minki drop him off at some place in Gangnam, and Minhyun swallows nervously when Minki asks him if this is the right thing to do.

“You could always get a hotel,” Minki begins. Minhyun is really quite tempted to follow his subtle advice and find a hotel somewhere close by, somewhere a little less awkward. Instead, once he gets off the car, he spots Jonghyun leaning against the wall opposite the lobby, eyes shaded with huge sunglasses and a frown on his face. 

“Uh,” Minhyun starts, then opens and closes his mouth. Jonghyun is wearing a long sleeved shirt under a T-shirt, practically being swallowed in fabric. 

“Didn't your flight land an hour ago?” he demands, arms uncrossing themselves as he helps Minki and Aron (most Aron) unload the baggage. 

“There was traffic,” Minki sniffs, rolling his eyes at the two of them. Minhyun stands awkwardly to the side as Jonghyun punches Minki in the shoulder and hugs Aron, then stands to attention as they wave goodbye to their car. Minki rolls down the window as he leaves, giving him an encouraging thumbs up. Minhyun quirks the side of his mouth, sure that it looks like a grimace instead. Reaching for his luggage, he realises belatedly that Jonghyun has seized his largest trolley and the duffel.

“I can—” he stutters, reaching out. Jonghyun blinks back at him, looks back at what’s he’s carrying, and lifts it easily, with minimal effort. “Oh. Have you been working out?” 

The surprised laugh that escapes his mouth is all worth it, Minhyun thinks, watching his eyes crinkle.

“Hey,” Jonghyun chuckles out, “I’m a dance instructor, you know.”

“Right,” Minhyun presses his lips together, feeling the tips of his ears heat in embarrassment. They exchange a  _ look,  _ one that is filled with unspoken words and thoughts and  _ God, this is  _ so  _ awkward. _

“Right then,” Jonghyun murmurs, “let’s go home.”

 

**JONGHYUN**

(4th January 2028)

Minhyun’s in the shower, and Jonghyun is panicking. 

Briefly, he thanks Daniel internally for taking Blue for the weekend. He’s not sure if he could have managed her mood swings, especially with Minhyun here. He has enough to deal with his own. There’s something he’s missing there, but right now he is incapable of thinking straight and needs a lie down.

Why the  _ hell  _ did he ask Minhyun to stay with him?

A normal person would have told their ex to find another place, but Jonghyun had practically  _ begged _ him to “come home”, and so he’s pretty much screwed for the next few weeks. Or months. Or however long it takes for Minhyun to find a house which appeals to his particular tastes or something.  _ Jesus. _

He drapes his feet over the end of the couch and leans upside down over the other arm, feeling his blood rush to his brain and huffing. 

“Jonghyun-ah—Sorry, Jonghyun,” Minhyun is saying as he crosses over to the living room, “where do you keep the spare towels?” Jonghyun cracks open one eyelid and is promptly greeted with the sight of one (1) Freshly Washed Hwang Minhyun in one (1) towel wrapped around his waist. He swallows a bit and darts upright, bouncing to his feet. 

“This way,” he snaps out, careful not to meet Minhyun’s eyes as he edges around him to get to his own bedroom. 

_ Jesus.  _ This would not end well.

 

And Jonghyun is right. As usual, when it comes to premonitions. 

He  _ somehow  _ forgets that tonight is the first Tuesday of January, forgets that he hosts the boys over for dinner every month, forgets that Daniel is supposed to bring Blue back today, and forgets that he’s supposed to  _ clean.  _ Left staring at his wall calendar in a mild (try extreme) state of horror, he claps one hand to his forehead and lets out a low groan. 

“What’s wrong?” Minhyun calls out, ruffling his hair with the hand towel Jonghyun had tossed at him fifteen minutes ago. He senses the moment his ex catches a glimpse of the event scribbled down on the calendar. “Oh. Do you want me to leave until this is over?”

“No!” Jonghyun bursts out, leaning his forehead against the wall and tilting his head to check the time on the clock hanging above the door. “Shit, it’s five already.”

Minhyun reaches out one unsteady hand and braces his shoulder.

“It’ll be alright,” he says, unfortunately and equally uncertain. 

“Wait,” he replies, tilting his head even more to look at Minhyun, looking all confused and lost and maybe a little apprehensive. “You’re good at cleaning.” His ex sighs, pinches his nose bridge, and acknowledges the fact.  _ “Help me.” _

“Yeah, okay,” Minhyun huffs out, letting go of his shoulder. “I’ll start from the living room, you start from here. We’ll meet in the middle.”

 

“Wow, hyung, this place looks so clean,” Hyunbin is saying, poking at the table and looking impressed when nothing falls off it at the slightest touch. Daniel, Seongwoo and Jaehwan are at the door, peeling off their socks. Jonghyun opens the latch to Blue’s cage and gives her time to acclimatise back home before she comes out, then takes the pizza and fried chicken from Seongwoo. “Damn, there are even  _ table settings.  _ Hyung, you are a changed man.”

“About that—” Jonghyun begins, but then a strange growl emits from the direction of Blue’s cage on the floor. The cat darts out like it’s arse is on fire and scoots into the rooms, and Jonghyun wants to run face first into a wall when he hears a muffled yelp, curse, and then what sounds like the simultaneous beginning of tears and petting and cooing. Daniel blinks at him, looks in the direction of the room, and says: “I swear I heard—”

“Minhyun-hyung?” Jaehwan asks in disbelief. And Jonghyun wishes the ground would open and swallow him in because they don’t even need to look at him in real life to confirm it. Instead, the four of them converge on him with the impatience and incredulousness of ten teenage boys being told there’s no dinner. 

_ “Hyung—”  _ they begin, voices blending together, and Jonghyun has literally never thought about how bad this would be. 

“Guys,” someone else is saying, “back off. Come on. Move.” And a strong hand lands itself on his shoulder and shoves Blue into his arms. He affixes his eyes on his beloved pet and cradles her until his mind is a bit clearer. In the process, he has somehow relocated to one of the chairs at the dining table. 

“Sorry for crowding you, hyung,” Jaehwan says, shamefaced. Jonghyun waves him off, smiling a little tiredly and makes a broad gesture in Minhyun’s direction. 

“We have a guest today,” he murmurs. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah, hyung—Of  _ course _ —It’ll just be like the old times—”

Jonghyun meets his ex’s eyes over the cacophony of voices and shakes his head slightly, warning him not to let his guard down. Minhyun offers a solemn nod in response. 

 

**MINHYUN**

(January 4th, 2028)

“So,” Seongwoo begins, eyes crafty, sipping at his wine. “Where have you been, Hwang Minhyun?”

Uneasiness curls in his gut and he clenches his fists in his lap. He has the sudden urge to down the glass of water set in front of him. And possibly the water jug next to it. 

“Japan,” he says unsteadily, looking a little worriedly at Jonghyun. His ex sighs.

“He was a doctor, and he co-owned this cafe I went to,” he explains, “that’s how we reconnected.”

“You weren’t talking?” Hyunbin asks, voice painted in disbelief. Minhyun winces at the error and quickly says: “We lost contact after a while.”

“You never came back to see us,” Jaehwan snaps accusingly, tracing patterns into the tablecloth with a wet finger. Minhyun wets his lips and places his palms on the edge of the table, leaning forward. Then he leans back, because he really has no excuse for why he hasn’t returned in almost a decade.

“I was… busy,” he stutters, fully aware of how lame it sounds. He doesn’t even dare to look at Jonghyun now.

“That’s bullshit,” Daniel shouts suddenly, making everyone jump. “That’s not fair! We were busy too, but we stuck together.  _ You  _ left. You didn’t even explain—”

“You never told us what happened,” Seongwoo chimes in, ignoring Hyunbin’s protests against the raising of voices. “You just up and left. And you’re—you weren’t the kind of person to just  _ do  _ that. So what changed?”

Minhyun doesn’t realize he’s staring at Jonghyun until the silence at the table makes him snap out of it. 

“What. Changed?” Seongwoo demands, and Minhyun notices that Jonghyun is still wearing that ring around his neck. He notices how Jonghyun half rises in his seat, ready to intervene in the coming fall out if necessary. He notices a lot of things.  _ “Minhyun.” _

“Everything,” he managed to choke out. “Everything changed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't have much excuse for disappearing for 3 months except school being a major pain in the ass but. yes. if any of you are still interested in this, drop me a comment and i'll continue?

**Author's Note:**

> LITERALLY HAVE 0 IDEA WHAT'S HAPPENING BUT WE'LL JUST ROLL WITH IT! i didn't do my usual list of christmas fics cos i was super busy but i was watching a star is born (suPER GOOD PLS GO WATCH IT) and i got super inspired by the 2 songs "shallow" & "i'll never love again" so this is happening. also the family drama at home that revolves around christmas can only hold my attention for so long. 
> 
> leave me a comment cos it makes me super super happy and like :') will work for comments ONLY (idrc about kudos like u could just comment a heart & i would be over the fuckin' moon cos i'm clingy like that 
> 
> also! looking for a beta for this fic (must be emotionally strong enough to handle my bullshit cos girl i will take u on some real intense rollercoaster rides) (like killing people) (i'm just joking) (i hope) hit me up at @wildflower_kjh on Twitter!
> 
> anyways love yall have a merry christmas and a happy new year!!


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